The Girl that Lit the Flame
by scribbledstars
Summary: Johanna Mason refused to be shaped by the men around her – the father, the partner, the mentor, the president, the best friend, the lover – no matter their intentions. This is her story of the home she lost, the game she won, the children she mentored, the rebellion she survived, and the aftermath of it all. A little JohannaxOC, some JohannaxFinnick, and JohannaxGale later.
1. Chapter 1: District 7

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games does not belong to me!**

**Authors Note:** I'm delving into my favorite character from the hunger games after watching the second movie – who else thought Jena Malone was perfect? She did a great job bring that coiled energy to life and I hope my story can do that to. This first chapter starts off with a lot of her backstory to introduce you to "my" Johanna, and how she's set to win her games.

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493. _Thwack_. 494. _Thwack_. 495. _Thwack_. 496. _Thwack_. 497. _Thwack_. 498. _Thwack_. 499. _Thwack_. 500. _Thwack_.

The pile of firewood beside me has steadily grown to almost as tall as I am in the past hour. I'm barely 5'4" so it doesn't look that impressive, but it's not like there are any other teenage girls in District 7 that can do this on a regular basis, I don't think, so I'm proud at how fast I've gotten. Not bad for an hour's work. I gather the perfectly cut half-foot by two feet blocks by the armful and make my way to the outskirts of the forest, where the peacefucker's homes are. I casually toss the pinewood in the general direction of each door because fuck them, they can stack it themselves. It'll annoy them for sure, especially since I cut some very rough and uneven on purpose to increase the chance of splinters.

It's the little victories that count.

The sun isn't up yet as I continue the several trips back and forth from the small clearing in the dense forest but I stride comfortably, knowing where to sidestep fallen branches and the areas where roots rise from the ground. These pine forests are strictly capitol forests, "officially" forbidden for personal use. Normal firewood has ashy harsh flames that don't compare to the warm fresh scent of pine, and during the winter months, some peacekeepers pay me for deliveries of fresh firewood as opposed to using the meager rations of the community's old stockpile. Upright law men, yeah right, lashes given out for random infractions picked based on their whims, but they always turn a blind eye when it's for their own benefit.

Remembering the night when the bastards stormed in to punish my family, I eye the large oak across the clearing and imagine it is the thick waist of the peacefucker that had dragged me kicking and screaming to the city square. Nighttime had prevented an audience, but my father was still lashed while we were forced to watch.

Taking a deep breath, I angle and draw back my arm. A small exhale and I throw the axe towards the oak.

My mother, still weak from childbirth, had desperately pleaded with the tall man that stood in charge as he counted the lashes. 1…2…3… "Jase," she had called him, "Please, stop. This isn't you. Why are you doing this now?" It was then that I had realized my mother knew this tall, horrible man. It wasn't until he motioned for the others to grab me that she cried "I'll do anything, anything you want, please don't hurt my daughter," that they stopped and left us alone so I could untie my father.

My mother had been pulled away by that man, Jase, leaving me to do my best to lead my bleeding father home. He hadn't stopped whispering his mistakes. Taking rations last week despite missing a work day to take care of mom who had just given birth. He hadn't applied for sick leave and while small mistakes like that were often overlooked, he had forgotten that there was a man just waiting for him to slip up. I learned that man had wanted my mother when they were younger but peacefuckers weren't allowed relationships when they were in service so he couldn't have her regardless of the fact she despised him. When she married my father he had still been furious.

I remember holding back tears of anger as I rocked my new baby brother to sleep that night. Angry that my mother was why my father had to suffer another man's jealousy, angry that my father hadn't been strong enough to stop what that man was surely doing to my mother, angry at this baby that had caused the small mistake in the first place, and angry that such a man had so much power. I was only 10 years old.

More than half the blade is embedded into the trunk, so I have to anchor my right leg against the base of the tree in order to yank it out. Eyeing another tree, I throw my axe again. It's therapeutic; I discovered that one morning when I had flung the axe again and again at the trees until instead of random clashes with the back of the blade or the handle, the blade started digging into the tree, deeper and deeper and deeper. It's a habit now. When I'm happy I throw an axe at a tree and when I'm mad I throw an axe at a tree. It's not like I'm wasting trees, it's all there is in District 7, trees, which if you thought about, is at least better than what they have at District 12 – coal mines. Or even district 10 where all they do is dote on animals like they're precious babies so capitol citizens can eat "premium" food.

Here in District 7 lumber is generally a man's job; women either do woodwork or help in the paper factory if there isn't a family business. My 10 year old self didn't know that. For four years after the incident, that peacefucker came around to "visit" my mother one night a week, and my father would take me to the lumber yard and pretend he was there to do some extra work. I wasn't stupid but it was easier to pretend, and he was so concentrated on forgetting everything he didn't notice when I stole an axe and started practicing with it myself.

In any case, teenage girls are definitely not lining up to get hired at the lumber yard so why did I want to? I glance down at my arms and am pleased to see that they are still as slender as ever. It was surprising I could use the full-sized axe with such ease, which definitely hadn't been the case before. Being 17 meant it was almost time for me to get a permanent day job, and while some of my friends were skilled at making carvings with small knives, I couldn't patiently whittle tiny flowers to save my life, and the small bandaged nicks along my knuckles are evidence of that. Perhaps the large fluid motions of handling the axe for years have ruined me for anything other than lumber yard work. It would cause a stir if I did apply at the lumber yard and showed them I could fell a thick tree in a few strong swings with my skinny but slightly muscular arms. I imagine the reaction and let out a little scoff that echoes in a very unladylike way.

Only my parents and a couple of peacekeepers that have seen me around know of my morning job and I know father disapproves the danger that comes with working while underage, you never know when rules would suddenly start being heavily enforced, but it wasn't like he had left me with a choice! After his arm got crushed at the lumber yard someone needed to take over some of his work. The extra money I make helps offer Ian a better childhood than I had, no cold nights, warmer clothes, and 3 meals a day. My 7 years old baby brother is growing fast and is also quite spoiled and I want it stay that way. My mother and father had a fight when I first started working until she asked him whether he preferred me taking tessera and that was the end of that conversation.

No one wants Ian to even have to consider taking tessera when he's 12. He doesn't fully understand what the games are yet so he still has these happy bright blue eyes that remind everyone of my mother's. My wide set brown eyes are from my father but I inherited my mother's other pixie features. I know I'm quite pretty, having flirted my way out of some sticky situations my mouth gets me in, but my refined features are quite deceptive to boys. It's how Klint noticed me, and why my father and mother have started arguing about my future again. Father's started to seriously push me to quit working because boys started dropping by this year to say hi because they were "in the area" and if any found out I did unladylike things like curse and throw axes around it was possible they wouldn't be so keen on the idea of dating me, much less marriage.

I play with my axe as I start the walk home, the smooth handle has long since molded to the shape of my hands so I can comfortably spin it around my palm and then my wrist. The large blade used to scare me but now I like seeing the metal glint during sunrise over the trees. The actual lumber yards are located on the other side of District 7 where oak, maple, and rosewood trees stretch for miles. Those forests were "gifted" by President Snow just last year so that all of what day laborers earned from shipping to other districts and the capitol would be salaried out. Never mind that conveniently for capitol citizens the prices for wood and paper had since dropped, and with taxes rising on imported goods like oil and flour here, many parents still struggled to feed their children so that tessera could be avoided. It was likely our goods in other districts had high import taxes as well, not that any of that came back to District 7.

Just yesterday I was complaining to my mother about how everyone was talking about how President Snow might start favoring our district even though it was obvious nothing had changed much this year, the "gift" was just false hope and she said I shouldn't talk like that where people can hear and I was too smart for my own good. Districts 1, 2, and 4 appear the best off during the reaping broadcasts, but everyone knows that's because they've been favored by the President since years ago, those lapdogs, and they have careers winning extra goods for their districts constantly. I doubt anything is really going to change anytime soon.

It's a good thing I see Klint before he sees me so I have enough time to hook my axe into my belt behind my back.

"Johanna! There you are," he says with a smile. Despite the fact that he likes me for all the wrong reasons, he is quite handsome and his enthusiasm makes me smile a little too.

"What are you doing here?" I respond, angling my body to keep the axe hidden.

"To walk you to school if that's alright, and I brought some more apples, I left them with your parents," he looks at me cautiously, probably because I did tell him I didn't know him well enough for a visit. "I didn't know you'd be out for a walk, your mom said you take one every morning, I didn't know that you did that or else I would have -"

"Thanks," I say, cutting him off before he rambles even more. Thankfully Ian must have heard Klint call my name because he's running out the door, half a shiny red apple in his hands.

"Jo! This apple is so good. I saved some for you. Mom said she's going to bake an apple pie! Have you had an apple pie before? Is it good? What is an apple p-"

Ian's enough of a distraction to toss my axe into the bushes before I start to lead Ian inside. Remembering my guest and my manners I ask Klint if he wants to come inside too, "I just need a couple minutes to get my bag for school," I say. He shakes his head anxiously and opts to wait for me outside. I'm not sure how I have that effect on him, but my mother says my uninterested attitude is actually very wholesome and charming and laughs when I tell her it's because I'm just that uninterested. Men are trouble, I learned that very early, but I know I can't build that harsh of a reputation if I want a family some day, but that doesn't mean I'm exactly nice.

Usually people get together after they're past reaping age, Klint is 20, and he's the oldest son from one of the wealthier families – they own a small apple orchard and make a special wine for the capital – so he is about as eligible as they come in District 7. It's why my father is seriously on edge recently wanting me to keep up appearances, and never pick up the axe again. Unfortunately for him, I don't want to give that up, at least not yet, and there's not much he can do about it if he wants to keep my extracurricular activities quiet. My mother likes that I'm independent; she says that way I don't have to rely on anyone and can protect myself. I'm not really sure how the relationship between my mother and father is, they still act like family after what we've been through but I don't think its love.

I search for my homework and find it under my desk with some snakes drawn on the back. Ian. There's no time to get mad because Klint's waiting outside and he really did come out of his way to come see me. I change from my shorts into the standard dark blue school dress, annoyed it's gotten tighter around the chest area, and pull my long brown hair up into a ponytail. Walking out of my house and seeing him waiting for me makes me uncomfortable. I've realized why he's here. By walking me to school he's almost staking a claim on me – we haven't been seen publicly together, I mean it's not like we've done anything except talk about general things like how I'm going to be graduating top of my class, he's learning how to take over his father's business, I don't like factories but he does, he doesn't like climbing trees but I do – and I'm surprised I might let him. The best way to hide discomfort is to make the other person more uncomfortable so I brush by and just say "let's go."

He's tall so he falls into step with me easily despite how fast I'm going. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" he asks. It hits me by surprise because I'd actually forgotten tomorrow was reaping day even though it's always the same day in August, too preoccupied with graduation soon and wondering what I was going to do about my future, like my work, but I manage to keep my voice steady.

"Nervous the girl you like might get picked?" I answer back and am pleased to see him get flustered. He hadn't confessed to me yet but I thought it was pretty obvious. I feel much more comfortable now as he obviously is trying to figure out what to say.

"No," he says. I quirk an eyebrow at him. He smiles, "Because I'll tell myself the same thing I told myself every year – when was the last time someone that hadn't taken tessera been chosen?" I'd told him early on that he was lucky, not having a difficult childhood and he'd asked if I'd taken tessera. There had been moments when I considered it, but I never actually had to. Our district had plenty of older siblings bravely sacrificing their safety and for the last several years our reapings were filled with large families sobbing. No one I knew personally had ever been chosen, not even from the school in our neighborhood, but what were the chances of that? Wasn't it about time someone I knew got picked? I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts and suddenly Klint wraps his arm around me.

"What are you-" I start to say.

"You like me right? That's why you said that!" He says cheerfully. His grip on my shoulder loosens and I take that chance to give him a hard shove backward and race to school. I hear him yell and I laugh, knowing that I'll make it into school before he catches me. "Hey! Wait – damn how are you so fast?"

I might give him a chance but only if he doesn't mind the fact that I want to work at the lumber yard.

If Klint hadn't reminded me about the reaping then being in school would have. Everyone here has their names in. Our teacher knows it's nerve-wracking for us so instead of the next lesson in forestry she asks us if there's anything we'd like to do to instead. There's silence before Roslina, who everyone knows is actually some kind of psycho fan of the hunger games raises her hand and suggests we play victor trivia. "I think if we don't take it seriously then we won't be so nervous," she says with a dumb smile on her face. None of us speak because we can't believe she said that, or at least that's why I'm temporarily lost for words. She clearly doesn't pick up on that because she continued with "we could start with easy ones, like how many District 7 victors are there?"

I stand up and turn around to face her. "How stupid do you have to be to suggest making this into a game?" I say to her.

She scoffs, "Clearly you aren't that smart after all… it's called the Hunger Games because it is a game!"

"The answer to your question is 4, because our district has only had 4 people come back, as in more than a hundred people from here died in what you're calling a game!" I respond angrily.

"I was just trying to help everyone be less tense! You don't need to be so serious about it," she answer, glaring at me.

"Fine," I say, "My question to you is considering how many victors we've had, and the fact that you're a girl, if you were reaped, what are the chances you live?" My friend Ivy that's sitting next to me drags me back into my seat whispering that I've gone too far because Roslina has just turned very pale. Serves her right, let her think about herself in that game. Her chance would be a complete 0, because we've never had a female victor.

"Johanna! You've just made things worse!" Ivy is saying next to me. She's right, everyone in the room looks more grim after I made that point. Rather than comfort me, Klint's words have done the opposite. All I can think about it is how it's about time someone I know gets picked and it's made me talk about something I usually avoid even thinking about. I have a feeling, and it's not good. Our teacher decides to just let us have a study period and we cluster off into groups. Ivy is obviously upset with me. "Why did you have to be so morbid?" she asks, "You never want to talk about the hunger games and all of a sudden you have to face off the Roslina?"

"We are all thinking it, except for her, so why is it so much worse after I just say what we were all thinking?" I ask.

"We were not all thinking about how every girl dies! We're just freaked out about getting picked, and now you've reminded all of us that if we do get picked there's like no hope. What about Blight? He won a couple a years ago," Ivy says while the rest of our friends nod.

The truth is I hadn't even thought of how Blight won the 66th games – he was 18 and strong so able to team with the careers. It was luck that helped him win though, they had been planning to turn on him when the group was attacked by these giant cats and he was one that escaped. It wasn't memorable except that he was one of us. Finnick Odair had won the year before so the commentators were still raving about his win during those games. He was still mentioned more than any other past victor every game with new pictures of how even more handsome he'd grown.

"Maybe I should have just mentioned if we got picked we'd probably get to meet Finnick Odair personally?" I suggest, and to my relief my friends crack a smile. He killed a shit ton of tributes, but it was easier to blame the capital than the handsome 14 year old, after all it was kill or be killed – survival of the fittest, the basis of human evolution. We do our best to change the subject. I tell them about Klint and they tell me I'm lucky I'm his type. Ivy mentions a new boy she's interested and we all beg her to tell us who he is. We try to act like it's a normal day but it's hard when I know we all can't decide whether we want this day to last forever so it's not yet tomorrow, or if we just want to get the whole ordeal over with. Ivy's twin brother took tessera for her a couple years ago so I know she's more worried about him than herself since they've multiplied over the years. I don't know him very well – he's more of the strong silent type and I think I talk too much for him to like me. Before we go our separate ways at the end of school I give her a hug and assure her everything's going to be okay. I don't feel that way, but it's what she needs to hear.

Ian sets the mood at home and I am grateful. My mother did bake that apple pie and Ian loves it – he makes me promise that my friend Klint will continue to bring more apples and my dad nods in approval as I mention maybe. I don't plan on hiding my work much longer though and I tell them so.

"Do you think it would be better to tell Klint before I apply at the yard?" I ask innocently as we're eating the pie.

"You want to do what?" My father explodes. "You can't do that!"

"Why not? I've been working since I was 12!"

"That's different. I'll allow you keep the job you have now but the yard is much harder it's 10 hours a day of hard labor, do you think you can take that-"

"What do you mean you'll allow it? I'm old enough to make my own decisions!"

"It's dangerous! Look at what happened to my arm!"

"That's enough!" my mother says when my father and I pause to breathe. "We'll discuss this tomorrow night." She means after the reaping. I'm frustrated she doesn't just stand up for me and announce I'm going to sleep. Ian's looking at me with wide eyes so I do my best to calm down before giving him a goodnight kiss.

I'm too angry to sleep so I slip out of bed after I hear my parents go to their room. I find my axe in the bushes where I tossed it earlier today and head into the forest to vent. 10 hours of hard labor – I could do it with more training!

I'm still going when the sun begins to rise although my pace has slowed down considerably. Broken trees surround me and I drag myself home for a couple of hours of sleep. I'm too exhausted to even care its reaping day at this point and too soon my mother is shaking me awake and tossing a white dress towards me. I should do this next year too, the buzzing in my head means I can't think about anything really. I'm too tired to be anxious and I shuffle out the door as my mother fixes Ian's shirt. I'm required to check in early, that way they have time to search for runaways or no-shows. I spot Ivy in the red dress she wears every year and her brother wearing the same shade of red on a shirt. Her parents will be wearing red too – it's a sign of unity for their family but I'd always wondered if they realized it's also the color of blood.

Ivy and I stick to each other as we separate, boys on the left and girls on the right. Ivy takes a good look at me once we're in place and sighs.

"You couldn't sleep either?" She asks.

"Something like that," I say.

"Worried you'll die soon?" I hear Roslina snicker behind me. Ivy grabs me from turning around.

"There are peacekeepers watching, don't start a fight!" Ivy whispers.

"Peacefuckers," I whisper back and Ivy cracks a smile.

My arms ache and my legs are starting to give way when the ceremony finally starts. There are so many people that I haven't seen my family in the crowd. Ivy and I clasp hands as the tall town hall doors open. District 7's escort, Mina is dressed ridiculously, wearing something that looks like a fishbowl as a skirt so it takes her a good minute to walk out onto the stage. It's easy to zone out due to lack of sleep so I'm able to drone out the usual history lesson of why we have these hunger games every year. I do notice our 3 surviving victors though. Blight's still young – but he looks just as weary as our other victors, Hectar and Peverall who I think are almost 50 or 60. They stand tall and stern – nothing like District 12's sole victor that's always stumbling around in the broadcast. I wonder what our victors think when they look down at us from the stage…

"Rhus Traver," Mina booms out in her perky voice. I feel a sharp jolt of pain that runs from my hands up my arm. Ivy is literally crushing my hand. Fuck. That's her twin brother.

"No," I hear her whisper. "No, not him," she says louder. This time I clamp down on her hand and tell her to be quiet, a peacefucker has already started walking towards us. The boys are parting silently to let Rhus through, the broadcast filming his steady walk to the stage. His face is emotionless – typical Rhus, the strong and silent type even when he's being reaped. Mina is clapping her hands.

"What are sturdy looking tribute we have here! Everyone! A round of applause!" She starts to clap and as the peacefuckers motion to grab their beaters people start to clap quietly as well. Ivy has started to cry silently next to me but I do my best to support her from falling despite the fact I'm not feeling that well. It's almost over…

"And now we have…Johanna Mason! Johanna!"

What? WHAT? Ivy lets out a wail and my knees finally give way. I had a feeling…

FUCK.

Did I jinx it? What was I thinking? I'm on the ground and I hear the peacefuckers pushing through the crowd. "Move! Where is she?" My words echo in my mind – the fact that you're a girl, if you were reaped, what are the chances you live? The answer is no chance. And Ian's old enough to know what he's watching, oh shit, Ian was literally going to watch me die. I was going to die. Rhus was probably going to die. Everything was not going to be okay.

But I need to get up on that stage. Literally everyone would be watching this.

How pathetic did I look? Why was no one helping me get up. Ivy's still wailing beside me, I really hope people don't think that's me. Is it because I'm literally being sent to my death? No one needs to help someone that's already going to die? Fuck I really should have just slept last night. I attempt to get on my feet but my body chooses that moment to just shut down and the last thing I think before my head hits the ground is that I'm not this weak.

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**Author's Note:** Let me know what you think and if you have any general questions I'll do my best to answer them in a note on the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2: The Train Ride

I'm looking at a dark red ceiling and am sinking into something very soft, a bed I think. Not my bed.

Where am I?

I sit up and all the exhaustion I remember feeling is gone. My left arm is throbbing. I can see the sun setting outside the window. I'm in a small space. The trees are flying by. This train is going extremely fast. Wait. Train? What train? Why am I on a train? The train to the Capitol?

I remember now.

The reaping. Ivy's brother's name getting called. My name getting called. Falling. Then nothing. Fuck. I didn't make it to the stage. All of Panem saw Johanna Mason faint. How did I get here? Why didn't they wake me up?

I'm supposed to get visitors.

I'm supposed to get to say goodbye to my family, to my friends, before I die.

It's too fucking quiet in here, I want to scream. "Calm down. Calm down," I say out loud to myself. I take a couple deep breaths. If the sun's starting to set that means I've been sleeping for most of the day. I needed the rest, my mind feels clear finally, well, as clear as it can be seeing as how I'm riding a train to my death, at least I didn't hear buzzing anymore. I almost laugh, Ivy's right. I can be morbid sometimes.

I'm not dead yet though. I can do this. Maybe. From what I remember about Blight's hunger games, I might actually be as proficient with an axe as he was. He was much stronger than me, but I think I'm faster. I've imagined using my axe as a weapon before. I could kill someone if I needed too. We've all seen even the youngest tributes violently murder one another – when faced with life or death it's human nature to choose life and fuck everyone else. But in that moment, both sides are fighting for life, it's not even a question of who wants it more, but who's prepare, who's in control.

How does someone like me get control of a situation like the fucking Hunger Games? I can't do it with strength because the careers have actually been training for this moment their whole life, not playing around with just one axe in the middle of a forest. I can't do it with alliances because the last time a large noncareer alliance formed they were the first to get hunted down. I can't rely on luck or hope that someone will help because you never know who the gamekeepers will be favoring and you really can't trust any of the tributes no matter how friendly, there's been enough beheading of allies in the middle of the night to drive that point hone.

What I need is a plan, not some fancy complicated plan that District 3 tributes always seem to have that either succeed or fail spectacularly. No, what I needed was a simple plan to survive as long as I could. Constantly be on the run? That would leave no energy for the fight at the end. Which tributes were hunted? The ones they perceived as threats. My District and District 11 sometimes have strong male tributes and if they aren't allied then they're the first to go head to head as enemies. I have no desire to be around the unpredictable careers so I guess my only choice is to make sure they don't perceive me as a threat. I could control that; just avoid their notice by doing what? I'll hide the fact that I have experience with a weapon … I just have to be forgettable, invisible, weak. I'll have to act weak.

It's brilliant. I feel the panic start to fade but my hands are still itching for an axe to throw around to relieve my stress.

But if it's so brilliant why hasn't anyone done it before? I think for a moment and realize it has been done before… just not very successfully. Tons of tributes turned on one in the beginning of the game when he went from crying interview to knife throwing maniac at the bloodbath. One year the commentators were keeping track of a betting pool for when a 12 year old girl would reveal her hidden murderous intent because that she was actually a career, her friends from home revealed that her grandfather hadn't just been a victor he'd also trained her, extensively. She must have been planning on volunteering when she was older. She'd been killed immediately after a tribute revealed he known she was faking it. I remember the grandfather being interviewed, he'd threatened the mentor that might have warned his tribute, said he thought they were friends. I guess that means I shouldn't trust anybody. Just myself.

Wait. Sponsors. Acting too forgettable and weak would mean no sponsors – who'd want to give money to a tribute that didn't have a chance? Sponsors meant money, food, and maybe even a weapon – Finnick Odair had received a massive steel trident in his games. The most expensive gift in history. That lucky kid, he'd won on charisma alone, well, that and the fact that behind his smile he knew how to spear people like they were fish, and did so with no hesitation.

Well no plan is fool proof and I'd much rather depend on myself than things I can't control. I'm going have to sell the fact that I wouldn't be a threat to anyone, but not be so pathetic that I wouldn't get any sponsors – tributes without them in the past have died quickly in arenas filled with harsh conditions without medicine, blankets, or food. I shudder at the thought and try not to think about dying before even getting my hands on an axe… I think I'm pretty good at acting, and I know I'm good at keeping secrets. My accidentally pathetic reaping was a good start actually; I wonder how that turned out on the broadcast.

I'm much calmer than I expected I would be. Good.

What else? Rhus knows me, not well, but I didn't exactly have a "weak" reputation back home. He might be the only one I'd need to explain my plan to. Especially if I planned on at least hanging around him to share the benefits of sponsored gifts. I crack open the door intending to see if he's nearby and hear voices to the left.

"You're wrong, the male tribute from District 9 isn't the threat, it's the girl." The unfamiliar voice is raspy and sounds annoyed.

"But he's so much bigger than she is," says Rhus. I quietly push open my door and walk towards the sounds of the TV. The floor is surprisingly soft beneath my toes as I make my way through the narrow hallway. It opens up into a much larger space, there's a table covered with food I don't recognize. The smell is amazing and my mouth immediately starts to water. The room itself is decorated with thick tapestries embroidered with bright colors. The furniture is mahogany, I recognize the rich wood immediately, and there are silver plates, bowls, and vases, and beautiful bouquets of flowers. I've never been around such nice things before. Further away there are three people seated on a furry couch with their backs towards me, watching the broadcast.

"If you looked closely, you can see that his eyes are glazed and hers are focused. Then when they were led off the stage, he hesitated while she pushes him aside and takes the lead," the older man is saying, motioning his hands.

"You won't get far if you don't use your brain and read your competition," says the first man, sighing. His superior tone of voice annoys me, and without thinking I feel defensive.

"He looks strong enough to break her in half, I think he's more of a threat too," I say, because it's true. Their pictures are up on the screen and the male tribute from 9, he looks massive, while the girl looks even smaller than I am. All three of their heads turn around immediately and suddenly I am the focus of attention. Rhus jumps up.

"Johanna! How are you…feeling?" Rhus asks while walking toward me. I remember my plan and shrug my shoulders instead of my gut reaction to snap back him.

"Better. Just, still a little shaken that's all," I answer and allow him to help me take a seat next to him.

I recognize the first man as Blight, and he's studying me while the other much older man, I recognize as Hectar, is shaking his head.

"As we explained to your partner earlier, lesson number one is the faster you come to terms with your situation, that you will have to kill other people, other kids, to survive, the less likely you are to die," Hectar says firmly.

"Less likely to die? That's really comforting, thanks," I reply sharply and Hectar looks unhappy with me.

"We're not here to comfort you. That girl, weaker she may be, but she composed herself quickly and confidently walked up to that stage," says Hectar. There's silence and I know everyone's thinking about how I was exactly the opposite. Hectar clears his throat. "As I was saying, strength is useless if there's any hesitation and he reeks of it. That girl shows all the signs of an aggressive tribute, and those tributes are the biggest threats."

I consider his words and decide that he's probably right, what he said makes sense and after all, he won his games and he's seen and mentored how many since? 30? They way he lectures irritates me though, so I present a theoretical case I know will annoy him. "So let's assume you're right, she's aggressive about winning but knows she's lacking in strength. Her best bet would be to recruit her district partner right? Help build up his confidence and then have him be the one to attack us, which in the end means he is the bigger threat since he'll be the one coming after us."

Blight's eyebrows rise in surprise and I cheer at my small victory when Hectar grumbles and turns his attention back to the reapings. I hadn't gotten to see any of the other reapings and I think that would probably be important. "Will they show everything again? So I can see what you -," I start to ask.

"It's being recorded, we'll watch it again and take notes," answers Blight. He gives me a small smile. "Good to see you've found your bearings, Rhus did say you were a lot of bark."

Hectar frowns. "But having no bite is a problem," he says. "Johanna is it? Well, Rhus mentioned you're very quick with words, but what are you good at that you think can actually help you out there?"

I glance at Rhus and he looks away a little guilty. Ah, so he told them I was all bark but no bite? I can work with that. "I'm fast, really fast actually," I say and Rhus nods as if remembering the times I would race Ivy all the time, everywhere. "I like climbing trees, but I'm not that good at it, since I'm a little short and can't reach a lot of the branches back home… and that's it," I say, noting that their faces show signs of pity. "I think I could do pretty well if the arena was a forest," I finish, unhappy that they seem to have so little faith. I mean I know it sounded a bit pathetic but they didn't need to be so obvious about it.

"Blight said earlier he thinks forests are likely, because if they go cold they need firewood and if they go hot they need shade and shelter, otherwise…it's too boring," says Rhus.

I feel a little sick as once again I'm reminded about how the games are for the capital's entertainment -the speeches that say they serve as a reminder of the dark days, the rebellion years ago – we've all seen the crowds that gather and cheer as the tributes are killed, the commentators that coo over violent deaths and dismiss the boring ones. It's just a game to them, and we're the expendable pawns.

"But you can't just hope for a forest somewhere, that is to your district's strength, but there's also terrains like rocky mountains, cliffs, oceans, islands, although you two are lucky that after the fiasco of the flooded arena last year – it's unlikely that swimming or excessive water will be part of the arena." says Blight. He takes one look at our still pale faces and actually rolls his eyes. "Stop thinking about dying and start thinking about how you're going to live. If you don't want to just roll over and die, listen to what we say."

"The Hunger Games are worse than you can even imagine, the most we can do is help you prepare," says Hectar, but he's pointedly speaking to Rhus. Was this why female tributes never survived? Because we were written off as weak and useless? What about all the female career tributes that had won? Even here, preparing for the hunger games I was seen as a useless girl, just like how girls in District 7 weren't good for anything except raising families and punching buttons at the paper factory.

"Good speech, how many previous tributes did you use that on?" I finally respond sarcastically.

Hectar doesn't look amused. What? I wasn't about to let them completely forget about me. I'd make as many inappropriate comments as I had to.

"You're going to make yourself a target if you talk like that to other tributes," Blight says thoughtfully. He has a point.

"Sorry, I'm just… I think that's just how I am when I'm really scared," I say and draw my knees up under my chin, making sure to curl up and make myself look vulnerable. I let my voice tremble at the end, just a little. "I really don't want to die, and I don't want Rhus to die either," I say softly. I surprise myself how vulnerable I sound and it must be because I really do mean everything I said… just not in that tone. Rhus lets out a small cough and pats my shoulder awkwardly.

"Your parents saw me before we left, they told me to tell you that they know you're a survivor," Rhus tells me. I'm relieved that my parents didn't tell him that I'm much stronger than I look, and I know they won't spill anything during interviews either seeing as how they liked the Capital even less than I did.

"Did Ivy say anything?" I ask. She's the closest thing I have to a best friend, most people find me a little too rough around the edges but she didn't seem to mind. Rhus looks away from me awkwardly and shakes his head. He shifts in his seat suddenly uncomfortable.

"So you know each other, are you going to team up then?" Hectar asks. I start to nod my head but freeze when I hear Rhus say no.

"I think we should go separate, I mean I think I want to try something similar to what Blight did, and team up with the careers," says Rhus and I feel myself grow cold. What. The. Fuck. So maybe I did seem lacking as a partner but I was a hell of a lot more trustworthy than that pack. I'm about to announce that I'm not actually that worthless but notice that Hectar and Blight are arguing.

"I think that's the best option," says Hectar.

"You would seeing as how you always think that's the best option," says Blight.

"You won didn't you," says Hectar, his voice rising.

"I barely made it out of there alive, if it wasn't for the animal attack I would have died," says Blight.

"Victors always barely make it out alive," says Hectar.

"It's too stressful, constantly being on guard, it exhausted me and I made the wrong call about when to break off from the pack, I should have know to leave sooner," Bight is arguing. It seems like they've had this argument many times before. I agree with Blight and I hope he decides to help me prepare because Hectar clearly already hates me. Finally something goes right because Hectar confirms with Rhus that he wants to team up with the careers and says he'll coach him and Blight mutters that he prefers the smarter one anyways.

Rhus promises that we aren't enemies, that he'll help me during training. I understand it more after thinking about it, he's scared too and thinks his best bet is how Blight won, to take his changes with the careers instead of being hunted down early on, it doesn't really have much to do with me. I tell him that helping me isn't necessary, that it's best for him to distance himself from me early on and he looks grateful and promises sincerely that if he enters the alliance with the careers, he'll steer them away from me and towards the other tributes. That's helpful for me.

So that's how we find ourselves for the rest of the trip, a comfortable separation. Hectar is busy offering all the tips he has in a commanding a loud voice. It's distracting but Blight does his best to brainstorm ideas with me. We're discussing using my looks to temporarily ally with a male tribute from another district, to be friendly to build a relationship, that it's easier when they're also feeling alone and vulnerable. Besides the male from District 9, the big guy named Dex and the girl Wrangle, there's also the tributes from District 5 and 10 that might be open to teaming up. I learn that it's better if I make more "friends" because many of my potentials would likely die in the bloodbath. I hear Hectar telling Rhus that under no circumstances is he to challenge a career's authority, that any ideas should be done discreetly as if they had suggested it themselves. Rhus is busy asking questions about how to do that. He sure broke out of his quiet shell fast. I briefly wonder whether I should just confess about my axe skills and try to team up with the careers because I know I'd be good that that shit – discreetly making suggestions. Blight notices that I'm distracted and as he listens to their conversation too he sighs and tells me that smarts win just as much as strength in the games and gives me an encouraging smile. I like him well enough, he's not a scary as I though victors would be, and he's encouraging, for what that's worth.

When I watch my own reaping by myself it's both horrifying and relieving. I look absolutely pathetic. It would be an uphill battle to obtain any sponsors at all, watching myself pale and faint. The video was edited so that Ivy's wailing appearing to have been me. They even interviewed that fangirl Roslina who asserted that I had been terrified the day before about dying in the games, and Klint stammered some ridiculousness about hoping to be able to bring me apples again in the future, because I was so sweet. Ugh. The portrayal strengthens my resolve to stick to my plan; after all, it's already been presented like a present all wrapped up for me.

We pull into the capitol and Rhus and I station ourselves on opposite sides of the train windows. The glare of the metal structures and the bright lights almost blind me but I do my best to keep my eyes open as innocent as I can and smile broadly at the crowds. But I make sure to stumble slightly as I shuffle off the train behind Rhus and grip one of the peacekeepers guiding us for support. It'll make for a good broadcast, still being shaky and unstable, a tribute looking for support. I glance and Rhus and see him solidifying his persona as well, no smile, a stern strong look, serious. A persona that the careers would want to include, too much flash, too much charisma, and you could be hated quickly.

I notice that Mina exits after us, I hadn't even known she was on the train. She's wearing an outfit that I think is disgusting immediately, a rainbow sheet that wraps around her like a mummy but as I glance around I notice that all the spectators look just as ridiculous if not more. Plastic hats that sparkled, Orange swirls, dogs with horns. This was The Capitol?


End file.
